On the Uphill Side
by Kajhe
Summary: A night out on the Citadel wards: dinner, some drinks, the usual. But if it works, why change it up? Male Shepard/Garrus fic.


"I'll have the turian menu," said Garrus with a slight movement of his hand as he took his seat at the booth next to the windows, which afforded a somewhat scenic view of the wards.

The asari waitress who had led them to their table nodded, and walked off. Shepard eyed her until she was out of earshot, and - when she had finally gone from sight after turning around a corner -, he gave a chuckle.

"Pretty sure she was going to get you one, anyways."

"You'd be surprised," replied Garrus. "There's been times I've been given the regular menu without anyone noticing until I spoke up."

Just as he was finishing his statement, the harried-looking waitress appeared again, moving towards their booth at the corner of the restaurant, carrying two menus of different colors. She lay them on the table along with napkins and two sets of utensils, and walked off again, this time to attend to a table occupied by three talkative asari in flamboyant clothing.

The two of them grabbed their respective menu, and began leafing through them.

"What do you think you'll get?" asked Shepard, focusing on the section of the menu titled _Human,_ under which he saw familiar fare such as he might have seen at an establishment back on any human world. He quickly ran his eyes down the _Salarian_ and _Asari_ sections, but did not find anything that particularly appealed to his appetite.

"Don't know. The _pullum particum_ dish looks good, though."

"The what?"

"It's a meat and vegetable dish. I would recommend it, if you could eat it."

"Well, I think I'll have the 'grilled Citadel turkey' sandwich. Always interesting to try the Citadel take on human cuisine," he replied, folding his menu up and laying it by the edge of the table. He took a quick look outside of the window - to see the high-rises shining with lights of all colors, and the arms of the station stretching out into space - before he settled his gaze on the turian, who was still perusing the menu. "You know," he began, his eyes staring off into an indeterminate space behind the turian, "it's a damn shame and a bother that we can't eat the same type of food."

"It bothers you that much?"

"For one, it's double the groceries," Shepard muttered, bringing his hand to his eyes. "And," he continued, with a playful smile forming on his face," it means I can't really make breakfast for you in the morning."

Garrus stared back at him blankly, not understanding the expression. He was about to ask when the waitress came up, serving them with two glasses of water and taking their orders. She looked visibly tired, and one glance of the restaurant showed her to be the only waitress on duty.

After she had gone once more, Garrus - amused - asked his question.

"What does that mean?"

"It's a human expression."

"I could tell that much."

"Well, see," the human began, his voice lowered, and Garrus noticed the flush on Shepard's face, "' _making breakfast in the morning'_ for someone is a a way to say that _someone_ is cooking for the other because the two have spent the previous night _together._ Get what I mean?"

"Ah-h, I get it...It's one of your peculiar human customs," said Garrus, the gaze from his blue eyes fixing on the human's face. "Still, I suppose it sounds... nice. Perhaps you should learn how to cook turian cusine, then. I'd eat it."

"Then what would I eat?"

"Maybe I can learn to cook human cuisine, in return?"

"I can't imagine you making scrambled eggs or pancakes or preparing coffee, try as I might."

The turian gave a grunt, and took a sip of the water that had been set in front of him. Over on the other table, the three asari stood up and proceeded to leave, laughing as they left, leaving them the only ones in the restaurant despite the relatively early hour.

"I can learn."

"What if - due to your proximity to it - you start thinking it looks appetizing?"

"Eh, doubt it. I've seen levo- food, and it's never really seemed appealing to me. Human food in particular seems too colorful. I remember when one the first human restaurants opened up here in the Citadel, over on Shin Akiba. Me and some C-Sec officers went over to have a look - we couldn't eat if, of course - and saw the menu, as well as some of the things people were ordering. We saw plates with all kinds of colors: yellows and oranges and reds and violets and greens. It was... well, off-putting."

* * *

By the time the waitress came with their food, they had left the topic of their respective species' cuisine behind, the conversation having changed in the direction of their joint exploits on the field some two years back.

"I say one of our better runs was definitely on Gellix," the turian told with satisfaction and a certain smugness, in response to an earlier statement on Shepard's part that one of their best campaigns had taken place on a Terminus System world called Zhitomir. "I had some of my best 'kills' there. Got a geth sniper from about 2,090 meters away, right before he was about to make the shot."

"Gellix?" asked Shepard, scowling as he tried to remember from the countless worlds on which he had seen action. Then, his eyes lit up as the memory came to mind: "I remember. That's the place where I had that showdown with the krogan battle-master, wasn't it?"

"The very same. It was impressive, by the way. It's not every day that one gets to see two biotics dishing it out at each other like the two of you were doing-"

"Here she comes," Shepard cut him off with, his voice lowered, nodding slightly to the left. "Don't want her to think we're mercs or that we'll be trouble."

The asari waitress walked towards their table, balancing food-laden color-coded plates on a tray. She deftly lay their plates at the table, asked the customary "Anything else I can get you?", and walked away after being politely informed all was in order.

The two began to eat, continuing their conversation.

"And that's what turian food looks like?" asked the human, eyeing the plate in front of Garrus, filled with what appeared to be a thick stew or roast of a dark violet tint, along with what appeared to be side dishes, themselves a lighter reddish color. The smell wafting from it was not unpleasant - it was almost floral -, although he himself would not have thought of it as coming from something edible.

"Now you know _,"_ he replied, before using his fork to take another piece from the almost monochrome array and bringing it to his mouth.


End file.
